


A Voice in the Darkness

by helloitskrisha



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Christine is The Phantom (literally), Erik and Raoul are childhood friends who have a thing going on, Erik is bi because why not, F/M, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 00:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19306534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloitskrisha/pseuds/helloitskrisha
Summary: Despite fearing that a man with a face like his has no place on a stage, Erik longs to show the world his music. As he prepares for his debut, inspiration from the most unlikely source comes to him. He hears a voice in the darkness… a voice that he can only describe as “otherworldly.”(Role Reversal AU; Erik and Raoul are childhood best friends, while Christine is a *literal* phantom.)





	A Voice in the Darkness

For most people, the night was a time for sleep. The setting of the sun was a signal for rest, for good night kisses, for soft whispers under the covers. Darkness was something to be avoided, something only to be endured until the breaking of the light.

Erik was not like most people. 

His mind was always more active during the night. This was when he often composed his most transcendent symphonies. The darkness was not a hindrance, but an opportunity for his imagination and creativity to run wild. In the night, after all, anything was possible. 

 

As he roamed around the opera house, he let his mind wander. Imagining fanciful stories playing out on the currently empty stage, dreaming about captivated audiences and rapturous applause. Even as a child, he had known that this was what he wanted. Music was his entire life, and all he truly desired was the chance to share the melodies he had composed with the world.

Yet, as his grand stage debut approached, he grew more and more nervous. Could an audience truly embrace him, mask and all? Or would they be frightened of him, demand to know why he had to hide his face? Even worse, would they make him take the mask off and gasp in horror at the burned, marred flesh underneath?

It had been years since the accident—the one that left him orphaned and scarred for life. Nothing had been the same since that fateful night. Now, he was alone. His instruments were all that kept him company.

 

Well, he was never _completely_ alone. He worked in the opera house and he often got to watch rehearsals for the theater productions. But people were always wary of him. They barely looked his way, let alone speak to him.

He knew it was probably because of the mask. It intimidated some and scared others. Occasionally, a few brave souls would dare to ask him about it. And Erik would tell them. His story would always cause them to look at him with pity. He really hated it when they did that.

But then there was Raoul, his childhood friend and the patron of the opera house. Raoul was the only one who really treated him as if he were just another man. Perhaps, it was because Raoul had known him _before_ \--before the theater that Erik was playing in burnt to ashes, before his world crumbled. Back then, Erik was young and handsome, the son of an architect and an opera singer, a music prodigy with a promising future ahead of him. Not this masked freak who frightened little children who passed him by in the streets.

Without Raoul, he knew that he wouldn’t even have a job in the opera house. His compositions were exceptional and his talent was undeniable, but no one would’ve dared hire him without the support and recommendation of the young vicomte.

 

Erik loved his nightly strolls around the theater. There were no people around to bother him and he could play the piano without being disrupted. The other performers always warned him not to do this. They told him that The Phantom, the being that roamed the opera house at night, would find him.

He had laughed at them and dismissed their stories about a crying ghost as nothing but silly superstition. After all, Erik was a rational man. He knew that there was no such thing as a phantom.

At least, that’s what he wanted to believe.

He played his music on the empty stage, trying to finish a score that he had been fretting over for years. Though he was attached to this piece, he couldn’t seem to finish it. There was always something wrong with it, something to add, something to remove, something _missing_. Frustrated, he crumpled the music sheet and threw it away.

That’s when he heard it…

It was a strange, distant, _otherworldly voice_ —a woman’s voice. It seemed to be singing to him, beckoning to him like a siren’s call. The solemn tone reverberated in the empty theater, enveloping Erik’s soul. The sadness of the melody stirred something in him, and he quickly realized that tears had begun streaming down his cheeks. 

It was such a unique song. Beautiful, moving, unforgettable yet there seemed to be so much pain behind it. Erik did not believe in ghosts. But he knew that no living being could produce such an ethereal sound.

He glanced around the stage, trying to find the mysterious singer. 

No one was there. 

As if the ghost were worried about getting caught, the song stopped. Erik stood from the piano. _No. That couldn’t be it._ He needed to hear the rest of the song. He needed to hear that voice again!

Though The Phantom did not sing to him again that night, Erik found the inspiration he needed to complete the piece he had been working on.

 

***  
The following night, Erik was determined to hear the voice again. He would try anything just to catch a glimpse of the being that produced such an unforgettable symphony. Raoul had laughed at him when he told him about The Phantom at lunch earlier.

“Oh, my friend,” Raoul chuckled, “you always did have a wonderful imagination. It may be why you’re such a talented artist.”

Erik scowled. “This was not the product of my imagination, I assure you. The voice was _real._ ”

“Come now, Erik. You’re the one who always scoffed at ghost stories even when we were children. Remember those books we used to read about ghouls and goblins? You would always tease me for getting scared and explain how the stories weren't possible!”

“I know what I heard, Raoul. Of all people, I thought you’d be the only one who’d take me seriously.” Erik grimaced as he stood from the table.

Raoul’s smile faded as he looked into Erik’s pained eyes. He stood and grabbed Erik’s arm. “Please don’t think I’m dismissing your story, Erik. It’s only… quite hard to imagine is all. Of course, I take you seriously.”

Not bothering to look him in the eyes, Erik pulled away from his touch. “I must go. If you’ll excuse me, _monsieur le Vicomte._ ” He briskly walked away, ignoring the hurt expression on Raoul’s face.

 

Erik stood near the piano, wondering how he’ll get the ghost to sing again. He tried to recall what he did yesterday night. Then, he remembered that he was playing a composition from _Don Juan Triumphant_ , the opera he was working on. The song was a solo for a tenor, a melody showcasing Don Juan’s feelings of emptiness despite the hedonistic lifestyle he led.

He played the song again. And waited.

Soon, he heard the ghostly voice. It was just as haunting and beautiful as he had remembered. This time, though, he decided to sing along with her.

Their voices melded together in a magnificent duet. For just a moment, they were completely in sync. Mind, body, and spirit. Together as one. 

It was glorious, and Erik knew that he had to see her. He had to find this strange being, this _phantom_ , for they were one and the same.

 

Once the song was finished, the theater was quiet. Erik did not make a move. He hoped that the ghost would show herself to him. He hoped he could see her. In his mind, she was the most gorgeous woman in all the world. For whatever reason, he imagined her as a brunette with pretty green eyes. He scoffed at his own thoughts.

After hours of waiting, he decided to go to bed. Perhaps, he thought, the ghost was not ready to show herself to him just yet.

 

***  
The strange duet he shared with The Phantom soon became his new normal. Every night, he would play his music and she would always sing with him. 

And every night, he would wait for her to show herself. But she never did.

Erik was becoming more and more desperate. He was obsessed with that voice. He had to see her. He had to be with her.

Raoul noticed that Erik was becoming detached from reality. He worried over his friend and wanted to make sure that he was taking care of himself. “Erik, please, this has to stop. Ghosts are not real.”

“You didn’t hear her, Raoul. You didn’t hear her calling to me.”

“My friend, _please_. Let this fantasy go.”

Erik glared at him. His voice held a tone of anger and weariness. “It’s so easy for you to say. You, who have never known loneliness. Never known pain and loss and suffering. That voice, she speaks to me. _She understands me._ ”

Raoul felt as if he had just been stabbed in the heart. “Erik… how could you say that? I’ve known you since we were only boys. I’ve always listened to you. Always cared for your well-being. I’m _the only one_ who understands you!”

“No. You don’t even know… You never noticed that I…” Erik stopped himself. He didn’t dare say the words out loud. This was wrong, he was told. A man could not love another man. It was simply not done. He could not tell Raoul.

Raoul seemed as though he knew exactly what Erik was thinking. “I _do_ understand, Erik,” he sighed, “I understand more than you know.”

 

***  
Erik’s onstage debut was tomorrow. He was to play a violin solo at the concerto. Raoul had assured him that he would do well. But Erik could not stop worrying about how people would react to him.

He could not sleep, so he wandered into the empty theater again. As he had expected, The Phantom joined him in song. But this time was different. The voice sounded closer somehow. She used to sound distant, but now it felt as though she were singing directly in his ear.

As soon as the song was finished, Erik moved to go back to his sleeping quarters. He didn’t expect that the ghost would finally show herself to him, after all. 

But soon, a figure appeared in front of him—translucent yet visible to his eye.

 

She was beautiful. Erik was awed by just how stunning she looked. She had a petite, slender frame and was wearing a white, billowing dress. Her soft, brown curls floated in the air. Her bare feet did not touch the ground. Her sad, green eyes seemed to pierce right through him like she could see inside his heart.

Somehow, though he could not quite understand _how_ , she seemed familiar to him. He had seen those eyes before.

He was in love with this ethereal beauty. He could not let her go.

 

***  
Raoul and Erik had tea together hours before his performance. When the vicomte invited the masked man over to his house, he thought he was doing him a favor. He had anticipated that his friend would need something to calm his nerves before his big debut.

But when Erik came over that afternoon, he seemed… peaceful. He was not the moody, aloof man he had been only a day ago. Raoul knew that he should’ve been happy that Erik was not panicking, but the uncharacteristic serenity unnerved him. “Erik, are you quite alright? You seem… different today.”

A small, solemn smile seemed to form on Erik’s lips. “Last night, I had an epiphany. I understand what I have to do now.”

Raoul was not sure he liked this epiphany. “…And what would that be?”

The expression on Erik's face was unreadable behind the mask. But his voice seemed so sure, so full of conviction. “I love her, but she is a ghost. The only way we could be together is if I left this world. After my performance tonight, I will join her.”

Alarm flashed in Raoul’s eyes as the realization of what Erik meant dawned on him. “Erik, do you hear what you’re saying? This is madness! You… you can’t mean that! You can’t think your life means so little!”

Erik did not look him in the eyes. “What else is there for me here, Raoul? In this wretched life, I am an outcast; only someone for people to fear, pity, and hate. In another world, I could be free. I would have her, and I would have my music.”

Tears streamed down Raoul’s cheeks as he wrapped his arms around Erik. “You can’t! _You can’t!_ You can’t leave me, Erik. I know that I don’t always understand you. That I don’t always grasp what you’re feeling. But I try! I _always_ try! I want to understand you because…”

Raoul paused. He had never said these words before, and he never thought he would actually find the courage to say them to Erik’s face. “…because I’ve always loved you. Please, Erik. Please.”

Erik let Raoul cry in his arms. Though he seemed affected by Raoul's words, he kept his expression as neutral as possible. “You know that we can’t be together… You are a vicomte. You’re handsome, Raoul. You can have any woman you want.”

“I don’t want a woman, Erik. _I want you_!”

“We can’t get married. We can’t have children. Not to mention that I am below your status in every single way. I have no money, and my body is burnt from head to toe.”

Raoul held Erik tighter, his sobs growing more and more desperate. “I don’t care about those things. We can run away together, find another place where we can be free. I’ll give up my title and my riches. I’d even turn away from my family. Just don’t leave me, Erik.”

Erik caressed Raoul’s tear-stained cheeks with his thumb. “You deserve so much better than a broken man you have to piece together.”

 

As Erik performed his violin solo that night, he poured his heart and soul into his music. This was his dream, and it was finally coming to fruition. At that moment, as he played the solemn yet powerful melody he had composed, the mask did not matter. Audiences were enraptured by the beauty of his song. They stood and clapped and cheered for him.

He glanced up at Box 5 where Raoul was sitting. The vicomte was also giving him a standing ovation. But he could not ignore that Raoul’s eyes were still red from crying.

Erik had a choice to make that night. Was he to move forward with a man he could not marry or be with the woman he could not touch?

 

***  
He waited for her by the piano, and she appeared to him almost immediately. Her smile was radiant as they sang together. 

And again, they were whole. Two voices that were meant to complete each other in an eternal duet.

She gazed warmly into his eyes as he played the piano. Though they could not speak each other’s language, somehow, they could communicate through only the melodies in their hearts. He had never felt more at peace than he did in that moment.

As Erik glanced at her, he noticed that she looked different. At first, he thought that his eyes were only playing tricks on him. Yet, he looked again and noticed that her form _did_ change. He gasped and stopped playing. The Phantom was covered head to toe in burns, just as he was. Her hair was gone. Her face was as marred and horrid as his. 

Still, she smiled at him. Her eyes still pierced his soul. Those pleading eyes made him feel warm, made him feel wanted and accepted.

She extended his hand to him, never breaking eye contact. He couldn’t stop his tears from falling as he reached for her.

He was not alone anymore. They were alike. Mind, body, and soul.

 

***  
For most people, the night was a time for sleep, for rest. But Raoul could not sleep tonight. He had just lost his oldest and dearest friend, the man he loved most in the world. He tried to find Erik again after his performance. He wanted to convince him to run away together. He wanted to tell him that there was so much more for him here on earth.

But the masked man managed to evade him. And the next thing he knew, he was cradling Erik’s lifeless body in his arms. 

Raoul had found him in his sleeping chamber. Erik was smiling as his soul started slipping away from his physical form. Raoul could do nothing to stop it.

 

He never got to tell Erik about what he had learned about The Phantom. By speaking with the managers, performers, and crew members in the theater, he managed to piece things together. Some of the stories he heard were nonsense, but quite a few actually rang true.

Her name was Christine Daaé, a young singer who originally hailed from Sweden. She had died on the same day that Erik had gotten burned. She performed on the same stage where Erik had played the piano; she died the same way Erik’s parents did.

It was an accident. She did not mean to knock over one of the gas lights while she was dancing. She did not mean to burn down the theater. She did not mean to cause such death and destruction. 

So, she stayed on earth, thinking that she did not deserve Heaven’s light. Every night, she would weep for the lives she had unwittingly taken. And she would beg for the forgiveness of the man whose life she had ruined.

But Raoul knew that Erik had forgiven her. Erik was haunted by the ghosts of his past, and the ghost was haunted by the gravity of her mistake.

Raoul hoped that they have both found peace.


End file.
